


Force Advisor

by popeyeotaku



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra Gets a Hug, F/F, Trans Adora (She-Ra), catra gets help early
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popeyeotaku/pseuds/popeyeotaku
Summary: What if you thought you knew somebody, but got to see a completely different side to them?And what if one of those people was you?
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Force Advisor

**Author's Note:**

> This was a big "screw it it's 1am and this dumb self inserty plot won't leave my head, Imma start writing" kinda fic 😅 if y'all actually like it please leave a comment it'd mean a lot
> 
> Also next chapter will probably be cw self harm so just to warn y'all. If you think I need additional tags or a higher rating just let me know, I'm new at this

The smell of smog, distant waste, and worst of all the upsetting reek of cold dank metal – the rough yellow lights gutting the locker room – all of this had completely faded away for Catra. And not like usual, where (similar to her round-the-clock anxiety) it was such a part of her that her conscious mind stopped registering it. No. Everything had completely faded away. She wasn’t even aware of the rest of her squad mates giggling amongst the remnants of the cake. Or Shadow Weaver having going off with Adora to give her another grand destiny speech.

Even her pain was gone.

But Catra was interrupted from her purring bliss with a scratchy and whole-hearted “Congrats, Catra,” as a short and slightly chubby man with a long brown beard and comically extravagant uniform (including flowing cape) waltzed in with his arms raised. The magicat did still have the presence of mind to throw up a salute, but Force Advisor Greyson gave her a dismissive gesture in his excitement, explaining this was no time for formalities. “I read the battle reports, but how’d it really go?”

Catra threw up a huge grin, “Couldn’t have gone better, sir.”

“I even did some stuff,” added Kyle, still excited from the rush of his first conflict despite being covered it grey slop.

“Aaah, that’s great! So glad to hear it, Kyle. Listen Catra – he and Scorpia are two of my favorite people around here, you protect him with your life, you understand? He’s a good egg, that Kyle.”

Kyle legitimately blushed.

“You ever met Scorpia,” Greyson wondered aloud, “I think you two would get along. She’s a Force Captain, maybe I’ll get Adora to introduce you two.”

Lonnie snorted and turned around to her locker. Taking advantage of the noise of the rusty old thing opening up, Greyson took a step toward Catra and gave her a sly shitty smirk.

“Speaking of Adora, did you tell her?”

Catra’s head tilted, genuine confusion in her eyes.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you didn’t? God dammit, Catra, that was the perfect chance! Away from Shadow Weaver, plus the whole heat of battle thing—”

Catra put her foot down. “Greyson, what the hell are you talking about?”

His grin grew even shittier.

“Did you confess to her?”

Her eyes went wide. Really wide. Her mouth hung open. The rest of the squad by the lockers stared just as hard.

“Wh-what did Catra do that needs confessing,” Kyle said, immediately regretting it -- Catra wheeled her head around towards him, her wide eyes filling with fury. Before she could beat the stuffing outta the Cadet, she felt her shoulder being gripped by Force Advisor Greyson, who wheeled her around, looked her straight in the eye, used his other arm to give a military grade salute, and told her:

“You have my orders, Catra. Tell Adora that you love her. It’s about damn time, anyway. And if Shadow Weaver or whoever catches you, tell her I told ya’.”

He thought a moment, then reached into a pocket hidden in the lining of his cape. “Actually, that goes for this too,” and he handed Catra a condom. She just stared at it in her hand; Lonnie almost did a double take. Greyson quickly cut in to everyone’s shock, “It’s alright, isn’t it? You shower with her so you’d probably know Adora’s dick better than me; Skitch didn’t have any magnums—”

* * *

The pink light of dawn was just breaking at Bright Moon by the time everyone had gotten back indoors. Most of the Princess Alliance were staying in another room (Glimmer had asked the guards “to just figure out something;” right now she needed to collapse). It was her, and Bow, and Adora – all huddled together in Glimmer’s room, holding onto one another for dear life and crying their eyes out.

“Not again,” Glimmer kept repeating over and over, “not again…”

It was just like this the last time, too. Glimmer refusing to believe it was real because she couldn’t see it. Adora must be lying. It must all be some big prank. A screeching cry broke out of her and the tears started falling hard again.

The three had no reaction when the door slowly opened, and a tall grey shadow loomed over them. The shadow stood still for long while. Then it dropped its suitcase and ran over to its niece. Castaspella hadn’t been sure how to react when she got the news just only few minutes ago, and it hadn’t really hit her until she saw Glimmer like this.

A soft voice from by the door cut in as unobtrusively and formally as he could. “I’ll put your bags in your room, Miss Castaspella.” And the young man picked up the suitcase and slid out, soundlessly. He handed it off to a nearby guard (quite a few had gathered outside of Glimmer’s quarters), briefly explaining they should drop it off in Castaspella’s usual room.

And then he just started walking. He usually thought better on his feet, anyway. And he was full of horrible thoughts at the moment. He hadn’t cried – in the young man’s short life he had gotten used to death. But everything he’d seen… Idly he wondered how anyone were gonna get around to explaining to the population of Etheria that weird dream they’d had actually happened, and it had cost Bright Moon their Queen.

The soft blues and pastel yellows of Bright Moon’s endless meandering halls felt almost maddening to him. Even though he’d been here for some time and gotten used to its layout, every section looked the same as another. He waked for what seemed like forever, aimlessly.

Then he heard the soft tunes of a lyre being strummed off in the distance. The young man’s walking became driven, following the noise like it was his lifeline. It grew louder and louder – no melody, just somebody plucking at the strings soothingly. The young man eventually came to a soft pink light streaming out of an open door, from which the notes came. He entered instinctively.

Princess Spinerella was holding an exquisite lyre, made of solid gold and encrusted with gems and carved with all manner of mythic heroic figures. The young man hardly payed that any mind; he’d gotten used to sights like that around Bright Moon. He just listened – standing there – completely forgetting himself, until he realized that the music had stopped and Spinerella was just looking at him.

The young man started suddenly, and bowed as deeply as he could. “My apologies, your majesty,” he said rotely and without looking up, “I did not mean to offend. Your playing was exquisite.”

He was quite surprised to feel her hand raising his chin to look her in the eye, having stepped off her bed. Her smile was calming, although it was clear from her eyes she had been crying.

“It’s alright. This is a rough time, for all of us.”

He bowed again. “Yes, your majesty.”

“You don’t need to be so formal,” she said, chuckling wistfully. “We’re all in this together.”

“Yes, mam.”

She hesitated.

“Have I met you before?”

The young man’s expression changed, registering something longing.

“Oh no, now I’m the one being rude! I’ve always been terrible with names, Netossa has to remember them for me and—”

“It’s no trouble, mam.”

“No, I—”

“It’s fine! Really. It was a long time ago; you probably barely saw me. I hardly remember myself.”

Spinerella turned away, visibly uncomfortable. The young man silently cursed himself. He was always making mistakes like this, always being awkward. He tried to change the subject. “How is Netossa?”

The Princess just let out a rough laughing sigh. “She’s dealing with… all of this, the way she normally does. In the training room.”

The young man grinned. “Sounds like Adora.”

Despite the heaviness in the air, Spinerella felt a strange kinship here. “You know Adora well?”

“Not so well. My room is across the hall from hers, we talk sometimes. Her, me, Glimmer and Bow have hung out a few times.”

“Hah. I’d have expected them to have roped you into the rebellion by now.”

The young man looked to the floor. “I’m no fighter,” he said softly.

Spinerella sat back on her bed, closing her eyes softly. “You don’t have to be able to fight to make a difference.” She sighed again, reaching for the lyre.

“It’s a beautiful instrument,” opined the young man thoughtfully.

“It’s an old family heirloom… Do you play?”

“Oh, no mam. But,” the young man awkwardly held the back of his neck, “But I do appreciate the instrument.”

The Princess started strumming thoughtlessly – soothingly – again. “What _do_ you do?”

The young man looked down. “I read. And, I exist. I dunno…”

“What do you want to do?” Spinerella still had her eyes closed. The young man felt entranced by the notes.

“A long time ago I wanted to be an actor. When I was a stupid kid…”

A pause.

“I don’t think that’s stupid.”

A longer pause. The heavy air filled only with lazy music.

“Your Majesty,” the young man started suddenly, “Do you know Catra?”

Spinerella opened her eyes, still playing.

“The Horde commander?”

“Yes.”

Spinerella thought for a moment. “I’ve fought her a few times, if that’s what you mean.”

“What’s she like?”

Spinerella thought for a longer moment. “Angry. Cruel. Vindictive. Manipulative. A pain in the ass.”

“I… I heard she turned on the portal.”

Spinerella stopped playing.

“She did.”

“I heard she knew that it was going to destroy us all when she did so.”

Spinerella sits up. “I heard that too.”

“I…” The young man wavered. He didn’t expect the tears to fall.

“Do you ever have bad memories?” he asked suddenly.

She shot him a look of genuine concern. It reminded him a bit of Angella. “What kind of memories?”

“I… I think… I think I want to help. I think I want to stop sitting around pretending I can’t make a difference in the war. And I think I know how.”

Spinerella smiled. “What’s your name?”

The young man stood straight, the model of respect before royalty. He bowed a final time.

“Greyson, your Majesty.”


End file.
